


Are You Not Cold?

by chissprincess



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: It's Boromir/Legolas but only if you squint really hard I think, M/M, The rest of the Fellowship is there too but in the background, Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chissprincess/pseuds/chissprincess
Summary: Born and raised in Gondor all his life, Boromir thought he knew plenty about Elves. It turns out he has a lot to learn about them. Good thing he's travelling with Legolas, isn't it?Takes place during the early portion of "The Fellowship of the Ring."





	Are You Not Cold?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Satu Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Satu+Kai).



> Written based on artwork by Satu Kai for the Tolkien Reverse Big Bang 2018. Check out Satu Kai's work on Tumblr (https://magictodestroy.tumblr.com/) or here on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/magictodestroy)!

[](https://ibb.co/nN0nHz)

Gondorians were not ignorant of Elves or Elven culture. They were, in fact, among the more educated people of Middle-Earth on the subject, descended as they were from the Numenorians, who in turn had close ties to the Elves. Seriously, you couldn’t turn around in any corner of Gondor without smacking into something that was in some way Elvish. They all had Elvish names. Gondorians were even known to use Sindarin, though apparently it was a dialect not used among the Elves themselves these days.

In any case, Boromir felt certain that nothing about Elves should have been that much of a mystery to him, and yet, there he was, wondering yet again about the hows and whys of Legolas’ behavior. The Elf from Mirkwood was currently at the front of their group, chatting with Gandalf, who seemed not at all perturbed that Legolas seemed to have been present for…what were they talking about? He couldn’t quite tell from his position nearer to the back of the group, and he didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, so it seemed that it would remain a mystery to him. But whatever it was, it sounded like it had happened well before his time, or his father’s time, or his grandfather’s time…perhaps a thousand or more years ago. He shook his head a little. That was the thing that got him the most – Elvish longevity. For all intents and purposes they were immortal. Boromir had always known that, but in an academic sort of way. He had never had much reason to ponder the effects of immortality on the Elves themselves or on their relationships with mortal Men. It had never really occurred to him that someone like Legolas, a relatively young Elf according to Aragorn, would have been alive for events that Boromir and his father and his father’s father had learned as ancient history. 

It was strange to wonder if Legolas thought of him as old or young or something else altogether.

It was even stranger trying to wrap his own head around the idea that Legolas could somehow be young and old all at the same time. At least with Elrond it was easy to imagine him as an ancient being – he had that air about him, even if (like all other Elves) he also had that timeless look of perpetual youth.

Every day, they walked as far as they could manage. Well, as far as the Hobbits could manage, which turned out to be much farther than Boromir would have expected of them given how short and unhardened they seemed. They were no warriors, after all. Three privileged nobles (after a fashion anyway) and one gardener, if he had understood them correctly. Not exactly the type he would have chosen for a long jaunt to Mordor if it had been up to him. Perhaps a legion out of Gondor, a few of Elrond’s best warriors, that Glorfindel fellow…that seemed more of the proper group for trekking across the world and into its most dangerous realm.

But they did not have a legion of Gondor’s finest, a collection of Elrond’s finest, or even that Glorfindel fellow in their company. They had Boromir, Aragorn, and Gimli, three accomplished and skilled fighters (if he could be so bold and immodest as to make such a judgement about his own skills). Gandalf, an ancient and powerful wizard, was of course an asset. The Hobbits themselves were still at the point of needing more protection than being able to fend for themselves, but aside from Frodo, he wasn’t sure if they were fully aware of that at the moment.

And Legolas. Also an accomplished warrior if the tales he overheard while they marched were true. He obviously had the most stamina of the group, though Boromir honestly couldn’t tell if that was just part of his Elvish nature or if it was a true testament to Legolas’ personal abilities. He had heard the Elves had great stamina, of course…

As they settled down to camp one evening early on in their trip, he watched Legolas, who was currently wandering restlessly around the boarders of the camp. The Hobbits ignored him, Gimli glowered whenever he passed too close for the Dwarf’s comfort, and Aragorn and Gandalf seemed to feel that this was perfectly normal behavior for the Elf. Boromir finished setting up his little area of the camp and settled in to tend to his weapons while the Hobbits cooked. Legolas paced. And paced. He paused for dinner and Boromir thought that might be the end of it, but no, after eating, Legolas got up and paced more. Around and around the camp, as though by circling it enough times he could…do what? Elves had magic, right, so perhaps he thought he was casting some spell? Finally, Boromir could take the incessant pacing no more, and he got up to follow Legolas. He finally caught up with the Elf as he passed behind a large boulder which formed one boundary of their camp. Legolas heard him, of course, and as Boromir rounded the boulder, Legolas paused and turned to regard him with one raised eyebrow.

Boromir stopped abruptly when he realized he had been caught. He cleared his throat a little, which just made Legolas tilt his head. “I…ah…” Boromir began. He coughed. “Are you not tired? We walked all through the day and barely rested last night.”

“…No,” Legolas finally said. “Should I be tired?”

“We walked all through the day and barely rested last night.” He cringed at his own words. He had already said that…

“Yes. So you said,” Legolas agreed. “I suppose it must be tiring for young ones, to walk so far for so long, but for me it was no more troublesome than a mere merry jaunt. I am sure my friends and I have traveled farther afield for our own amusement on many occasions.” He tilted his head the other way this time. “Does my moving bother you?”

“I…no, of course not,” Boromir said. Legolas pursed his lips a little. Clearly, he didn’t believe the Man’s words, but he wasn’t about to challenge them either. “I just…wished to be sure you were well rested.”

Legolas gave one curt nod. He would accept that answer. “I am fine, thank you Boromir. In fact, I think I will take the first watch tonight. Unless you object?”

Boromir held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, by all means, if you wish to take first watch you will have no argument from me.”

Legolas nodded once more and turned to continue his pacing, leaving Boromir behind the boulder.

*** *** ***

Boromir usually slept like a rock when it wasn’t his turn to be on watch. It was a skill he had mastered while serving Gondor as a soldier, and he was grateful for it. They got little time for sleep on this journey (the Hobbits were clearly starting to feel it) and so they all needed to make the most of what they got.

So he was extra irritated that he just couldn’t sleep tonight, no matter what he did.

He shifted position, thinking that maybe if he did he could find a slightly flatter spot. But the ground under his back was absolutely riddled with roots and rocks and there didn’t seem to be any such thing as a “flat spot” anywhere near him. He tried rolling onto one side, then the other, then even tried his stomach for a second, but quickly gave up on all of those positions. Finally, muttering under his breath but trying not to be loud enough to wake anyone else up, he pushed himself onto his knees and climbed to his feet. The tree whose roots were causing him so much trouble was nearby, so maybe he could just lean on it and get a little shut-eye before sunrise.

He starting picking his way through the roots, searching for a relatively clear path up to the tree trunk, when he came upon Legolas. At first he thought nothing of it, the Elf needed sleep as much as anyone right? But something was off…something…

Were his eyes OPEN?

Boromir stumbled back and stifled a gasp, still not wanting to wake the others until he was certain a disaster had befallen their Fellowship. He crouched down next to the Elf. Sure enough, Legolas’ eyes were wide open, staring unblinking and unseeing up at the stars, looking to Boromir’s eyes for all the world as though he were dead. “It cannot be…” Boromir whispered. All of his admittedly-limited understanding of Elves had lead him to believe that they could not die of any but the direst of causes, a broken heart or perhaps death in battle. Legolas had shown no signs being so unhappy, at least not in Boromir’s opinion, and now it did not seem that he had so much as a scratch on him, let alone a lethal injury. 

He gave Legolas’ shoulder a gentle shake, but it didn’t seem to do anything. Legolas continue to stare ahead, unblinking. Boromir shook harder, producing the same results. A slightly harder shake shifted Legolas out of his carefully arranged sleeping position. Finally, Boromir shoved as hard as he could and leaned over to hiss, “LEGOLAS!” in the Elf’s ear.

His efforts finally got results, but not quite the results he had been hoping for. A white knife to the throat and a hard root pressing against the spine were never pleasant at the best of times. Although in this case, Boromir found that he was…relieved? Yes. He was actually relieved that Legolas had somehow managed to spring to life again, shoving him down into the tree’s roots and holding the blade of a knife to his throat with all the precision of someone who had had to do such things one too many times. Perhaps the tales about the dangers of Mirkwood were true after all.

“Boromir!” Legolas hissed, and sat back on his heels, his knife vanishing back into its sheath as if by magic. “What has gotten into you?”

Boromir sat up and winced a bit. He rubbed his back as best he could as he said, “I was trying to wake you.”

“For what purpose?”

“To see that you lived.”

“To see that I…” Legolas blinked at him and tilted his head. Somewhere behind Boromir, one of their companions stirred, and Legolas’ eyes flicked to the sleeping beings visible over Boromir’s shoulder. He held a finger to his lips for a second, then rose to his feet and motioned for Boromir to follow him. He had long since disappeared around the tree before Boromir finally managed to clamber to his feet and follow. Fortunately, Legolas did not go far, only far enough so that their whispered conversation wouldn’t disturb the others.

“To see that I lived?” Legolas repeated when Boromir finally joined him. “Why would you doubt that?”

“Well, your eyes…” Boromir said. When that didn’t seem to be enough of an explanation (Legolas just frowned and crossed his arms over his chest) Boromir added, “They were wide open and staring at the stars, as though you were dead.”

Legolas blinked at him a few times. “…Is that a sign of deadness among Men?”

“I have seen more than my share of the unseeing eyes of the dead,” Boromir said. 

“But you have never seen the sleeping eyes of the Elves,” Legolas countered. The corner of his mouth twitched up a little.

Boromir just shook his head. “I suppose not, until tonight. Is that truly how you sleep?”

“Yes, all of us. Though we sleep far less than you youngsters.”

Boromir coughed. “Youngsters,” he muttered. “Are you not young as well?”

“Perhaps…for an Elf. But that only means that many things and beings of Middle-Earth are but children to my unblinking eyes.”

“…And now you are teasing me.”

“Of course!” Legolas grinned. “I suppose the ways of Elves are quite foreign to you, as are the ways of Men to my people, but it matters not. We will learn…we have time.”

*** *** ***

They had finally wound up in a situation that Boromir thought might be disastrous. For the past few days they had had no luck with fishing and little luck with hunting and gathering. They had long since depleted the resources they had packed in Rivendell. Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir had managed to replenish their stores through hunting and fishing. The Hobbits had been quite useful in gathering edible plants. But now, somehow, they had come to a rather barren area, and their stores were running low. Terribly low – none of the Fellowship had had a proper meal in three days. The Hobbits had become accustomed to only eating three meals a day but asking them to make those meals smaller or asking them to cut out one more had led all but Frodo near to mutiny. Boromir was growing concerned with the effects of hunger on the rest of their abilities. None of them were showing any signs of weakness or slow reflexes yet…but how long would THAT last?

He glanced up from his spot by the fire as Aragorn appeared out of the scraggly shrubbery around them. His eyes and the Ranger’s met, and Aragorn shook his head. No luck. Boromir’s heart sank and he returned to prodding the fire with a stick, hoping that the Hobbits would remain distracted a little longer. Aragorn stepped around the edge of the fire and settled himself on a rock beside Boromir

“Legolas has not returned?” he asked, his voice low so as not to disturb the Hobbits who were conversing amongst themselves nearby.

Boromir shook his head. “It seems we have some hope left. You found no signs of anything?”

“Nothing,” Aragorn confirmed. “Not even Orcs, though perhaps it is not the blessing it appears to be.”

“Perhaps the Orcs drove the animals off,” Boromir mused. Drove them off, or ate them and left the area so tainted with fear that nothing had yet dared return. “Perhaps we should consider a change of course ourselves. We cannot continue on like this much longer.”

Aragorn simply nodded and fell into a pensive silence. Boromir remained beside him, but turned his attention to scanning the edges of their encampment. The Hobbits had by now registered that Aragorn was back, but they had also noticed that no food seemed to be forthcoming. They greeted Aragorn, but then fell into an uneasy silence of their own. Now all they could hear was the wind around them and the crackling of their campfire.

Legolas returned an hour later and, much to the Hobbits’ great joy, was carrying two rabbits with him. They were scrawny things. Boromir supposed they would all get barely a mouthful of meat out of them. Sam lamented that there were no potatoes or carrots for a proper stew, and Boromir found himself agreeing. As much as he didn’t want to insult Legolas’ hunting skills or turn his nose up at what those skills had produced, he also couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t going to be much of a meal. Maybe it would have been better for Legolas and Aragorn to stay in camp tonight, rather than wasting their energy on hunting such meagre offerings.

Gimli returned just in time to join Sam in skinning and preparing the rabbits. Boromir allowed himself the luxury of just sitting and listening in while the two worked on preparing a bit of vegetable-less rabbit stew, comparing notes the whole time on how Hobbits and Dwarves preferred to make the dish. Despite Gimli and Sam’s efforts to get as much meat into the stew as possible, Boromir knew from their chatter and the way they struggled to butcher the rabbits that his assessment had been right – there wasn’t much to work with. It didn’t stop Gimli and Sam from putting on brave faces and declaring that their stew was a miracle of camp-cooking techniques (the joke brought a smile to even the hungry Hobbits’ faces). They were soon ushering their friends forward and urging them to fill their hungry bellies as much as possible.

Boromir let the Hobbits go first, then Gimli and Gandalf, and found himself in line beside Aragorn. The two Men exchanged looks, their faces mostly neutral but their eyes betraying the fear they felt over the toll taken by the lack of food. As if by some magical agreement, they both took bowls that were mostly filled with broth and had only two or three tiny pieces of meat in them. Boromir noticed that there was plenty left in the pot for Legolas and returned to his spot by the fire, content that at least someone would wind up with a full belly tonight.

They all ate in silence, until Frodo got up and peered hopefully into the pot. His already large eyes widened and he grabbed the ladle as though it held the key to saving the world, scooping whatever was left in the pot into his bowl. He returned to the Hobbits and began doling out the last few bites of meat and sips of broth (except to Sam, who insisted that Frodo eat his share). Boromir finished off the last of his broth while he pondered this development. There had been just enough left for one more serving…maybe a tiny bit extra but not enough for all four Hobbits to get a second helping, not if the rest of them had taken more than broth and a single bite of meat. Had someone not eaten?

He glanced around. Gandalf was just going to clean his bowl, Gimli was clearly holding on to his last bite as long as he could, and Aragorn was just finishing up too. That only left Legolas, who apparently was nowhere to be found. Or rather, nowhere to be found easily – a little more searching revealed that Legolas had climbed a tree and was now surveying the surroundings from well above the ground. Boromir couldn’t help but grin a little at that. At least one of their number had found something pleasant to do.

Boromir helped clean up the remnants of their dinner and volunteered for the first watch that night. Within little more than half an hour, he found himself leaning against a tree, all of his companions asleep in the camp behind him. All, that is, except for Legolas, who waited until even Gandalf was dozing before climbing down out of the tree and joining Boromir in his watch.

“Are you not tired?” Boromir asked. “You did spend much of the day hunting.”

Legolas shrugged. “It is not so tiring,” he said. “Tomorrow I can rest. Gandalf and Aragorn have spoken of turning north, towards the mountains. Perhaps we can find a more protected place to camp.”

They fell into a companionable silence after that. Boromir found himself focusing on the sound of the wind, and on the disturbing lack of any other sounds. It was so quiet that when the wind died down, he could even hear his Elvish companion breathing beside him.

“Legolas?”

“Hmm?”

“You did not eat a thing today, did you?”

Legolas glanced over at him and slowly shook his head. “I did not.”

“Are you not hungry?”

“No…” Legolas glanced back over his shoulder at the camp. “Not compared to the rest of you, at any rate. You all need it more, especially the Hobbits I think.”

Boromir chuckled a little. “They are unused to the ways of the wilderness.”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed. He turned back to look at Boromir, studying his face as though there was something there that the Elf could see but others could not. “But whatever you do, do not judge yourself to be unworthy of a filling meal. You are important to the Fellowship, Boromir…we would suffer without you.”

“Oh you would, would you?” Boromir asked, another grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Legolas just smirked a little. “Oh yes. Who would ever finish the Hobbits’ sword-fighting lessons?”

*** *** ***

It had been a few days since they had made it far enough into the mountains to encounter snow, and the snow and cold had provided a whole new set of challenges. It seemed that Hobbits were unfamiliar with this weather, and struggled to keep up. Boromir tried to stay positive and to keep an encouraging attitude, but privately, he was worried. If the Hobbits were already struggling with this cold and this snow, what would happen when they got even higher in the mountains and encountered deeper snow and harsher weather? There were four Hobbits, and he wasn’t sure that Gimli or Gandalf could carry them (Gimli on account of being barely taller than the Halflings and Gandalf on account of needing to keep hold of his staff). But could he, Aragorn, and Legolas successfully carry four Hobbits?

He glanced back over his should at Legolas, who seemed blissfully unaware of his companions’ struggles. Despite being among the tallest and sturdiest of the group, Legolas didn’t seem to make even the shallowest of impressions in the snow. He walked on top of even the softest, lightest snow as though it were the normal ground. The cold seemed to have no effect on him either. In fact, Legolas seemed overall impervious to weather, on top of not being bothered by such things as sleepless nights or a few missed meals.

Boromir would have denied being a little jealous, but that would have been a lie.

A few more days into the march into the mountains, Aragorn pointed out that they would lose access to easy wood sources once they got high enough into the mountains, and that if they wanted to be able to make any kind of fire for warmth and preparing food they should ration their already-limited firewood a bit. That meant smaller fires and looking to other sources for warmth. The first night they tried this, Boromir didn’t notice much of a difference. He was still cold, fire or no. But the following day they had some of the worst weather they had seen since starting their trip. Cold, strong winds hindered their progress and blew the fresh-falling snow right in their faces. Boromir found that nothing he could do made it better – whether he allowed the snow to hit his face or tried shielding himself with his hands, he still couldn’t see clearly. Gandalf and Legolas went ahead, trying to find and clear a path. Boromir and Aragorn followed close behind them, walking side by side in an effort to shield the Hobbits from the worst of the weather. The chatter from behind them told Boromir that their efforts were rather vain. More than once he and Aragorn had to turn around to help Hobbits back to their feet or to make sure Gimli, taking up the rear, hadn’t fallen too far behind (it seemed that Dwarves weren’t much more adapted for snowy weather than Hobbits were).

Finally, they called a halt. The weather showed no sign of clearing in the immediate future and continuing to battle through it was just wasting valuable energy. Boromir helped Aragorn start their meagre fire while the Hobbits found a comfortable spot to huddle together. He then went to see if he could rig up a couple of their blankets as shelter from the worst of the winds while the others prepared a bit of dinner for them. The blanket shelter was far from the best he had ever built, but resources were limited, and by the time he finished, he figured it was better than nothing. 

With dinner finished, the Fellowship broke up into smaller groups. Aragorn and Gandalf huddled together on one side of the fire, carefully studying a battered old map and murmuring back and forth to each other about their route. Gimli joined the Hobbits for a nice chat about something. Boromir couldn’t quite hear from where he sat, but based on Gimli’s animated gestures, he assumed it must be something to do with Dwarvish history or culture. A good distraction for the cold Hobbits, whose shivering was obvious despite how close they sat to the fire and the fact that they had all managed to gather together under a few blankets.

Only Legolas was not by the fire. Boromir could see him, prancing over the snow on the outskirts of their little encampment, still looking completely unbothered by the freezing cold around him. At least his senses would be useful even in the wind. He could see and hear far better than any mortal, after all. But for Boromir, as he huddled under a thinning blanket beside the tiny fire, that sense of jealousy over Elvish attributes had returned.

As Legolas passed closer to him, Boromir turned to look at the Elf. “The wind has not died down at all and the snow still falls as it did this morning,” he said. 

Legolas nodded in agreement. “Yes. If it stays this way, the Hobbits will struggle even more,” he said.

Boromir nodded as well, then scowled as a gust of wind blew more snow into his face. Legolas just looked in the direction the wind has come from, seeming oblivious to the snow in his face or how the wind whipped his hair this way and that. As the wind finally calmed to a more manageable level, Boromir rubbing his own arms and asked, “Are you not cold?”

Legolas shrugged a little. “A bit, I suppose, but it is no problem. I can walk upon the snow and I find that the wind does not trouble me.” He turned away from Boromir and took a few steps away, as though he intended to return to his patrol on the edge of their camp. But instead he paused and tilted his head a little as he regarded Boromir once more. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Cold.” Legolas crossed the short distance to Boromir’s side in two or three strides and crouched down beside him, studying the Man’s face. “Your lips have turned an odd color.”

“Have they?” That was alarming. Boromir didn’t think he could remember a single time when he had been out in the cold long enough for his lips to go blue. “I must be even colder than I thought.”

Legolas frowned at him a bit, then got up again and went off to the spot on the other side of the small fire where he had left his own supplies. He poked in his pack for a few moments before pulling something out, and returned to Boromir’s side. “Here,” he said, holding a small bundle out to him. “The weather does not trouble me. You need this.”

Boromir reached out to quickly snatch the bundle from Legolas so that his hands wouldn’t be exposed to the air any longer than necessary. He shook it open and realized it was the cloak Legolas had worn when he first arrived in Rivendell. It was soft, surprisingly so for something that was clearly meant for travel, and smelled far better than any of their possessions had any right to be smelling at this point. Somehow, it almost felt wrong for him to use it. But by the Valar he was cold and he would take any extra warmth he could get. He shrugged out of his blanket just long enough to pull the cloak on around his shoulders, then pulled the blanket over himself again. “Thank you,” he said.

Legolas grinned and seemed quite satisfied. “You are most welcome. Does it help?”

“It does,” Boromir said. He wouldn’t quite describe his situation as toasty warm, but he felt much warmer than he had in days. “It must be some sort of Elvish magic.”

Legolas laughed and plopped down next to him. “Do you really think we can do magic like that?”

“I think Elves can do many wondrous things and that they might not realize how wondrous they are to mortal eyes.”

Legolas hummed a little as he pondered this. “Perhaps,” he said. “But mortals are surprising in their own ways.”

Boromir nodded, and for a while the two sat quietly, watching the snowflakes fall and the fire burning. Finally, he glanced over at Legolas and said, “Are you certain you are not even a little cold?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Boromir laughed and held out one arm, waving Legolas closer. “Come here. We can stay warmer together.” Legolas laughed too and scooted over until his side was pressed against Boromir’s, and he pulled the end of the blanket firmly around himself. As the Elf rested his head on Boromir’s shoulder, Boromir decided that he wasn’t so cold now after all.


End file.
